Forgive and Forget
by Nyanko-burger
Summary: Hetalia-Saw crossover. Arthur Kirkland finds himself trapped in another one of Jigsaw's games, and in order to escape with his life, he needs to make a decision that could put another man  or two  in danger. Fluff in some parts. M for Language and gore.
1. Part I

**Hello readers! **

This is just a little crossover I'm trying, I am planning on making a multi-part series for this. This is basically an AU for Hetalia mixed with the plot line for the Saw movies.

Disclaimer: I do not own or profit from Hetalia: Axis Powers and I do not own the characters.

I do not own the Saw plotline or any characters associated with it. This is purely for creative expression. :)

Warning, there is a bit of BL in this so Homophobes be warned, it's gonna get fluffy in some points.

Hope you guys enjoy and leave a helpful review! :D

**Pt I**

He hit his head against the wall so many times I thought his skull was going to break open. With every prominent _**THUD**_, there was a moan of physical and emotional pain. He was sitting down and facing a plain white wall, slowly swinging his head backwards to hit himself again. His wavy yellow hair trailed over his cheeks and ran over his scalp until it came together into a small ponytail that was no longer than my thumb. He gripped the back of the chair with red fingers as tightly as he possibly could. His leg was twisted underneath him in a painful looking way as well, his other leg dangling off of the plain wooden chair he was sitting on. His visible foot was wearing a scuffed black shoe, as if he's had it for a year. _**THUD**_.

My throat caught in horror as a small smear of blood covered the spot that his skull collided into. I stayed quiet this whole time, hoping that he would attempt to acknowledge my awkward presence, but as soon as the blood smear caught my eyesight, I nearly choked out the word. "_STOP!"_He didn't listen this time and started throwing his head back to strike himself again. I never blinked when he smacked his head one more _**THUD**_ and sat there, leaned against the wall where a faint bloodstream ran. "_JUST STOP BLOODY DOING THIS! JUST FUCKING STOP!_" My face was completely filthy with dusty tear-tracks and a red nose.

He panted heavily and his back started rattling with heavy sobs. "I need to die..." He whispered just loud enough so I could hear. I wanted to reach to him, to clean his wounds and hold him, to kiss him, to tell him how much I loved him. "I need to die..." He repeated, a little louder this time. Was he waiting for an answer? Did he want me to comfort him? "Untie me. _Please_!" I moaned. I sobbed along with him as he slid off the chair he was sitting on and skulked toward me tiredly. "I need to die..." He said to me. He looked into my eyes with a watery gaze, of pain and suffering and undeniable love. "Why is it always **black** or **white** with you!" I said, stressing my fear to him. "Please untie me." I said in low sobs.

He crouched down to where I was tied up in about four ropes; One around my ankles, one around my elbows and chest, around my knees, and one more on my thighs and wrists. I was sitting up against the wall so that I could see every inch of the small apartment I was in, but I was too distracted with the man in front of me. "Please!... _Please! UNTIE ME PLEASE!_" I yelled. He stared at me for a few more moments until he slowly spun me around and unbound my wrists and elbows. But before he could untie the rest of my restrictions, I grabbed at his shirt and pulled him into a tight embrace, leaning my face into the crook of his neck.

I sobbed a couple more times while he tiredly pulled the other two ropes off and held me back, pleading with me to stop crying in between sobs of his own. "You don't need to die... It's okay I'm here..." I reassured him as much as I could, holding his head into my shoulder and kissing a couple of places on his neck. "I love you, so you don't need to do this... Just let me hold you." He mumbled responses into my shirt, but they were too quiet to hear. He tightened his hold on me and whispered straight into my ear.

"Je t'aime."

I couldn't take it anymore. I pulled away from him and kissed him, trying to breath life into him. He ran his fingers through my hair and reacted with extreme passion, pulling my waist closer to his and breathing a heavy, musky air into my lungs. This sharing of breaths was very intimate, and this experience was truly one of the most amazing I've ever had. As soon as we pulled away, I was left with a feeling of loss.

My eyes slowly wandered to the neglected wound on his forehead. I ripped some of the cloth from my undershirt and wiped the blood away from his face, revealing the small scrape that was much more innocent without the blood streaming from it. I used the same ribbon of fabric to wrap around his head and kissed the cloth where the wound was. He started to tear up again and tried to smile while his face became strained with the oncoming sobs. I just held him tighter and whispered into his ear.

Finally he leaned onto my shoulder and relaxed. "I'm so sorry Angleterre...I'm so sorry I caused all of this." I chuckled a forgiveness and leaned against his chest. "Let's just try to survive this okay? I have a little less than twenty minutes now..." He suddenly looked panic stricken and looked at the small x-ray on the wall again. "But the petite key is behind my skull no? How ar-" I placed a finger over his lips and touched his forehead. "That's my x-ray and it's not a skull. That's an enlargement of my eye...The key's behind it."

He looked stunned and then the look changed to horror. "No...How...?" He shook his head so many times. I looked all around the room and noticed the tiny craft knife on the table next to the chair that Francis was sitting on. "That...That's just sick..." I held my hand over my mouth and shut my eyes. "Quoi?" He said, trying to look in the direction of my earlier gaze. "Oh no." He said with dread. "They want you to...cut it out?" He said, a cringe in his voice. " I shook my head. "Oh God no..." I tried my best to think of something else, but time was too short for this.

"Just fucking cut it out!" I crawled over to the table and grabbed the knife. It was no longer than an inch and looked completely clean. "Just get it over with okay!" I sobbed as I handed him the device. "He took it with fear and looked at me pleadingly. "Angleterre...How will I...?" He squeezed his eyes completely shut and hugged me, sitting me on the chair. "This will hurt...Just stay asleep and you will be fine." He placed a shaking hand against my temple."What?" _**TH**_-

…

…

…

…


	2. Part II

Pt III

A slow gray haze formed in front of my eyes and made it difficult to see, but soon I realized that the gray haze was black and I couldn't see perfectly well at all. My left eye was throbbing incredulously with pain and my skull burned in a low but fierce ache. "Francis?" I whispered.

The room was empty, but it wasn't the same room that we were in before. It was smaller and much quieter, but that was only because this time I was by myself. There was a small tape player that greatly resembled something that an officer would carry around. I have seen this before. I shook my head in disbelief. "Not again... Please not again..." I started to reach forward, but caught myself before I could trigger a trap or even worse...a _game_.

The first thing that I needed to do was discover what was in my surroundings. There was a gigantic-looking yellow garage door that was barely visible in this blackness. The only light in the place was actually sifting underneath the tiny crack of the door. The wall seemed to be tiled, with various pipes After careful observation of the left side, I started evaluating my right. This proved more difficult with my right eye. For some reason it seemed like if I tried to move it, it would move around in some places and squish, not to mention the agonizing sting from even attempting the feat. He really did it... He cut my eye out. But not all the way it seemed. After more careful observation, I came to notice that my leg was tied to a metal pipe, but not so much tied as it was chained.

The tape recorder was empty, and as soon as I realized this I patted the pockets of my trousers. They were normal jeans, black with acid staining on the front. The pockets were empty. I slowly moved my leg around, hearing the rattling of the metal on the floor, which was the same tile as the wall I was leaning against. My other senses triggered a stench that fouled the air. I cringed a bit and wiped my nose.

I started feeling the wall for a switch of some sort, but instantly became paranoid. What if the light switch was rigged? What if I turn something on that will kill me, or someone else? Regardless of all of these theories, I found a switch and flipped it, shutting my eyes tightly to the blinding fluorescent blue light above.

The room looked like an old bathroom...most likely in some sort of basement. There were mirrors lining the wall and the sinks were broken, or most of them were. Once again I found myself lying against the wall across from a man, but I couldn't see him. He was fast asleep, or so I was hoping. He was also tied to a pipe, but I couldn't see his face. He was wearing much different attire than the stark black suit of Francis, at least of what I could perceive . He was wearing regular blue jeans but his legs disappeared into what looked like an old bathtub. His feet were relatively average sized for a man and his hand, which was also hanging out of the side, was too thick and strong to be a woman's.

Suddenly, the man burst out of what looked like water and gasped for air. His brunette hair stuck to his cheeks and his green eyes searched wildly around the room before settling on me. He gave me a look that screamed relentless questions and tried to approach me until the chain on his ankle tightened, finishing his trek. "Who...What..." he started to studder. He seemed scared, never mind. More like terrified enough to shit himself. His soaked white shirt also clung to him, making his olive skin look paler than it should. He looked down at the chain around his ankle and sat down, trying to pull it off. "Where the hell am I? What's going on?" He pleaded after trying to get loose.

I shrugged and sighed. "Your guess is as good as mine young fellow." This answer didn't satisfy him, as he yanked on the chain harder and grunted and growled, ending up in sobs and whimpers. "Keep that up and you'll slice your ankle open..." I mumbled tiredly. I was sick of this and sick of being so close to the lips of death. After a few minutes he noticed my eye and tilted his head in confusion. "What happened there?" He pointed and stared at the obvious injury. I shook my head and sighed again. "If you must know this is the second time I was abducted, and this is the result of my first experience." I was half tempted to try to touch the wound to see what was left, but ignored the thought. "It looks like your eye imploded." He cringed and looked around the room, probably making the same observations I had. "What's your name?" He asked me while looking over at the mirrors. My head trailed over to the toilet in the middle of the room. "Kirkland..." I said loud enough for him to hear. He smirked and scratched his head. "Mine's Vargas. Lovino Vargas." He suddenly had a very Italian accent. Rich, musky, and pretty enough to be some sort of model for Gucci or something. "Do you have a first name? Or was 'Kirkland' it? Not that I care..." He crossed his legs and looked into the bathtub he was lying in earlier.

"...Arthur Kirkland." His eyes met mine for a brief second in utter horror. And then it was gone.

He avoided my gaze as much as possible for a few minutes after that, which seemed suspicious. He suddenly noticed the tape recorder in between us. "Is that empty? The tape player thing?" His eyebrows furrowed into a scowl for some reason. I shrugged my shoulders. "Think so..."

A very tense silence filled the air as we both examined our surroundings more carefully. As I felt the pipe's thicknesses, and Lovino was checking his pockets as well, he pulled out a small tape that read "PLAY ME" In thick, Sharpie marker letters. He looked over at me. "Hey Arthur! Do you think you could throw that player to me? I think you're closer to it..." Immediately, I began to pull off my over shirt, which was a plain white button-up work shirt. I tossed the sleeve a few times toward the sniggering little contraption and finally managed to slide it close enough to grab. I thought for a few moments until- "Hey! Throw it over here!" I stared over at the Italian. "And risk breaking it? You throw the tape!" Lovino scowled again and finally threw the tape over, crossing his arms after a very sloppy throw in front of me.

I placed the tape into the player and made sure that Lovino was paying attention before nervously tapping the play key. A rusty voice appeared in a few seconds. "Hello Arthur Kirkland. I wanna play a game. Only this time, you might not be so lucky." My eyes opened into utter shock and my breath caught in my throat tightly. "fuck" I said in a gagged whimper.

"Over the years, the tragedy in your life has devastated you to the point where you act upon will and anger. This anger also makes you unable to forgive the people who may or may not be the people responsible for this tragedy. Across the room from you is a young Italian that goes by the name of Lovino, but in fact, he is actually part of the Italian mafia." My eyes grew wider. "If I am not mistaken mister Kirkland, I believe that the same mafia is what got your son in danger four years ago..." I shut my eyes tightly. "... And eventually killed." The words stung my ears and pierced my brain. My heart stopped and I dropped the cassette player into my lap, trying to hold in the oncoming sobs. "Now not only is Lovino part of the whole plan, but his brother has no clue as to what has been going on with his schemes of assassination." Lovino's eyes grew wide. "Fratello?" "Now mister Vargas' younger brother is in my possession and will be kept out of harm, unless you can make the final choice." Lovino's eyes teared up and his face turned anguished. "No!" "Mister Kirkland, in this room you will find several different options. One will involve sacrificing part of yourself, for the men you wished death upon years ago, and another, will kill you and both of these people who may, or may not, have been part of the murder of your son. You have until the clock strikes eight. Forgive and forget. Live or die...

make your choice."


	3. Part III

**Hello again.**

Welcome to part III of FAF. Now, I apologize for the little slip up in the first chapter where Francis says "Angleterre" even though this is an AU with their names and all. But besides that... This part is strictly about introducing Lovino's brother and another man. (who you all probably already know who it is buuut...) Anyway, I hope you enjoy this part and continue reading this story!

Pt. III

A figure was pacing nervously, occasionally bending to tap someone else in the face. This figure was tall and muscular. He was wearing a black mask over his face and a stark suit. His hands were shaking and there were small patches of sweat under his arms and on his chest. In his back pocket was a gun, unarmed most likely from how nervous he looked. The sleeping victim was tied to a bed by his wrists. It almost looked like bondage between a rapist and his prey.

This man was lying his head to the side in such a manner that he might wake up with a crick in his neck later. His mouth hung slightly open as he breathed sleep, and his wrists looked bruised from prolonged treatment. His hair was brunette and red and it came short on his face right before his jawline. He wore a normal pinstripe shirt with khaki pants. He wasn't wearing shoes, just white socks to cover his feet. This man seemed pretty young, probably around his early twenties as his hands were still slightly large to indicate youth. The bed he was chained to was plain-looking, an old wooden head and foot-board with a flowered quilt. The pillows were plain white, but seemed a but yellowed out from age.

The figure that tapped the younger man once more on the left cheek, kept his hand there for a second and pulled away. He sat down onto the bed next to the man's stockinged feet and just looked at him for a while, a look of sadness in his eyes.

Suddenly a buzzing sound came from the desk across from the bed and the masked man immediately jumped up and grabbed an old looking radio. "Ludwig? Ludwig is he awake yet?" The masked man sighed heavily and looked back over to the smaller man on the bed. He hesitated before he pushed the small button on the top to speak in a deep voice on the other end. "No...He's still asleep. What do I do when he wakes up?" The voice on the other side of the radio huffed in frustration. "Just let me know right away, and give him some water. He will be extremely thirsty. He might also panic, but I just want you to keep him calm enough so he doesn't rip his wrists open on the handcuffs okay? You got all that Lud?" The voice makes another puffing sound, but it was most likely the sound of smoking a cigarette. The dark figure leans his arms on the desk, also heavy and wooden like the bed. He rotates his shoulders a few times, breathing heavily. "Yeah...Just leave me to it...I have one more question though." The voice makes a noise that assures 'Ludwig' that he is paying attention. "What will happen to the man after this is over?"

Silence ensued before the voice on the radio laughed, pretty hysterically. "That all depends on what mister Kirkland decides remember?" Another puff of cigarette smoke blows noise through the speakers. Ludwig holds his face into his palm. "Bruder...Ich verpasse sie." A chuckle ensues over the radio as Ludwig's eyes moisten. "I do too bruder. I miss you too."

Ludwig shuts the radio off, too upset to listen, and looks over at the sleeping man. He made no sign of waking as he breathed gently, his chest moving ever so slightly, so at first glance he even looked dead. Ludwig tapped his hand to the sleeping man's face once more, holding it there and noticing the warmth the man's face poured through his glove. Ludwig sighed heavily and ran a hand through the brunette hair. "You look so familiar..." He then proceeds to take his gloves off and touch the sleeping man's wrists, where the pink lines of bondage started turning red. Ludwig looked sad after touching them, as if he felt guilty. He kissed the sleeping man's cheek and pulled his gloves back on, getting up and walking into a separate room, wiping his eyes briskly.


	4. Part IV

**Hello again~**

Welcome to part 4 guys whoo! It took a little while to whip this one up, from all of the college applications and final exams and HSA's and Volunteering and... well I think that about sums it up. I appreciate everyone who reads this as more of a creative piece than a gorror piece. I never really wanted to write too much gore description. (one of the reasons I picked the plot of the first Saw movie out of all the others.) There will be violence, but mostly at the end. Anyway, this is quite an obvious point of view, and I hope that you enjoy this chapter. Comments are nice!~ Enjoy!

Pt IV

The soft blue light of the computer monitors illuminates a very small part of the dark room they sit in. There are about four of them, lighting up the desk they are perched upon. The desk is littered with several wrappers and cups from various restaurant chains. Pencils that are barely sharpened along with crumpled balls of paper are illuminated next to the keyboard.

A man presses his fingers onto the mouse gently clicking responses on his computers. The image on the screen contains the same bathroom where Arthur and Lovino are trapped. Several views of the small space span the length of each glass barrier, the tenants unaware of their surveillance.

Puffs of smoke fill the air next to him as a flash of red light blinks in front of one of the computers. Suddenly, a clicking noise causes the light to stop blinking as the man mutters a groggy "What?"

"I've recovered him like you wanted. What should I do?" The fuzzy noise echoes throughout the room creepily, making the room seem bigger than it really was. The man in front of the monitors puts out his half-smoked cigarette and presses a button on the little radio. "Chain 'im to the headboard Lud. He should be awake in about an hour. I gotta keep watch on these two." "Alright..."

The signal clicks out and the computer man leans back into his seat, sighing heavily. He looks back at the monitor that points toward the English man. His face held the look of depression and worry. He noticed that this man kept eying the clock on the wall next to the cameras. It almost looked as if the man was looking at the cameras itself, staring into the camera man's eyes and accusing him.

The man clicked that particular monitor off, wishing away the worry in his gut. Hearing his brother's voice on the radio was enough to almost make this man cry. He held his face in his hands and breathed heavily, choking the sobs into his chest and feeling them burn in the pit of his stomach. He seems to regret every little move he does, every little action that decides the work into his hands. As if his life were going to end at any moment.

In fact, it probably was.

This white haired man scratched his nose while making a few more adjustments on his monitors. A glowing beep next to this man's face caused the monitors to dim and the lights in the ceiling to erupt the room into color. The computers, in fact, took up the entire room, underneath the desk that all of the computers were sitting on was a few trash cans, completely full of cigarettes and paper wads. Some of the wadded paper lay on the floor, missing their targets.

The man massaged his temples and turned around in his chair. His ice-white hair fell over his red-brown eyes and translucent skin in thick patches. His eyes looked more baggy than they probably should have, small purple bags on his lower eyelids and small creases on the inside corners of his eyes. His skin was slightly dirty with dust and sweat and his clothes were wrinkled. His white t-shirt and gray sweatpants gave the impression that this man really didn't care about his personal fashion, or hygiene. Or maybe he couldn't.

This man got up from the chair and cracked his muscles into place from sitting down for a while. He then proceeded to grab a jacket and drape it over his shoulders, taking a necklace out of the pocket. He held the small silver chain in his hand, dragging it over his palms until he found the little silver locket on the end of it. It had a very old picture on the front of it of a woman with long brown hair, smiling sweetly. The white-haired man placed the necklace quietly into the pocket of his sweatpants, sighing to himself again. He grabbed one of the nearby chairs and chucked it at the door to his small prison, making a loud noise and denting it slightly. The chair fell to the floor with a loud clatter, the man holding his face and gasping in sobs once again. He slammed his fists onto the desk and yelled. He screamed his rage into the monitors, once again starting to cry, but ended up trying to hold in his frustration and pain. He panted heavily after calming down, grabbing the small radio and hugging it to his chest. He held it with the best care and love he could. It was his only taste of freedom.

After a few minutes of calming down, he held his thumb to the radio's 'on' button. It was about time for everything to start unraveling and that meant that his brother was going to start with his operation soon. The white-haired man pressed the red button delicately, waiting for the ability to speak to reach his brain. "Ludwig? Ludwig is he awake yet?" The man asked quietly. A few seconds later, a short static reached his ears. "No...He's still asleep. What do I do when he wakes up?" A deep voice cut through the room like razor-wire. It seemed raspy and tired, a lot like the man in the small computer room, but much deeper. He clicked the button on the top of the radio again, sighing heavily, a bit frustrated. "Just let me know right away, and give him some water. He will be extremely thirsty. He might also panic, but I just want you to keep him calm enough so he doesn't rip his wrists open on the handcuffs okay? You got all that Lud?" He read it off of his brain almost as if a giant cue card was being held in front of him. He took another cigarette out of his pocket and put it in his mouth, lighting it and puffing slowly. "Yeah...Just leave me to it...I have one more question though." The thick voice seeped through the radio. The white-haired man sat down in his chair again, sighing a quick 'mhm?' "What will happen to the man after this is over?" The question was almost too hilarious to comprehend. This man knew that the human they were discussing was destined for death, and he thought it was pretty damn obvious. He laughed loudly, the button still pressed on his radio. "That all depends on what mister Kirkland decides remember?" He takes another puff of his mini-cancer stick and breathes heavily, letting all the air out of his lungs.

"Bruder...Ich verpasse sie."

The words made the smoking-man stare at the ceiling, his mind blank and his heart heavy. He paused a minute, smiling sadly to himself. "I do too bruder. I miss you too." He nearly choked out the words. His brother didn't apparently know about his future, and for that he was grateful. He didn't want to upset the younger man with the coming news of his death, but if someone knew they were going to die, how would they tell the one's they love?

The white-haired man leaned back into his seat, switching off his radio and turning the computers back on, observing the two trapped men once again. He sighed a tear, wiping it gently onto his t-shirt. There was no time to cry, and Gilbert knew that it wouldn't change a thing.


End file.
